


BOOK TWO | Greedfall: Reconquista

by Xion_Praeten



Series: Greedfall aftermath [2]
Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21741940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xion_Praeten/pseuds/Xion_Praeten
Summary: A little over five hundred years have passed since the New Gods of Teer Fradee banished the imperial powers from their island back to the sick and dying old continent. Now, many think of the mystical island as nothing but an old myth. Others dream of re-establishing empire. Most just want to survive the night. The world has changed. Some wail out in pain, others thrive. Now that the veil of the Great Dark Age is lifting on the continent, what will the forces remaining do? What became of the now-ancient New Gods that overtook the mystic island over half a millennium ago?
Relationships: Constantin d'Orsay & De Sardet, Constantin d'Orsay/De Sardet
Series: Greedfall aftermath [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567084
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue: The World of the New Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This continues a fan fiction I wrote about the "Bad Ending" to the video game Greedfall that I maintain was actually a GREAT ending! Here in Book Two is a further imagining of what the Greedfall world would look like 500 years in the future after the events culminating in Constantin and DeSardet's apotheosis and kicking the imperials out of Teer Fradee to fester in their plague on the continent.

The old continent has seen five hundred years of strife and toil following the imperial powers' banishment from Teer Fradee by the New Gods. The Malichor had decimated the population of the continent and sent Thélème, the Congregation and the Bridge Alliance, as well as the other smaller nations of the continent into a deep Dark Age. The continental survivors fought on in an increasingly bloody war over territory among local feudal and mostly autocratic warlords. All central authority had been wiped out for centuries. Whole swaths of land were deemed to be "everyone for themselves." Very little law and order remained, and all of the great cities of old were now rubble.

Peasants would stare up in wonder from their makeshift huts at great crumbling colonnades, wondering how their ancestors managed to build such marvels.

The Nauts had long ago fled the shores of the old continent to cling to their islands, occasionally raiding coastal villages for supplies and capturing unsuspecting villagers for reasons known only to the seafarers. Their technology continued to expand exponentially, as the Nauts were somehow immune to the plague. So vast was the difference between the level of tech of the Nautocracy and the old continent that the seaside villagers of the old continent rarely even knew of any danger of the stealth ships before it was too late.

The Nation of Thélème had been ripped asunder by the Great Schism as well as the first, second, third and now fourth Holy Civil Wars. A third of the remaining population of what was once Thélème clung to the old dogma of the Saints as revealed to them before the New Gods. Another third worshiped in the way as revealed by long-dead Saint Cornelia — the understanding of Matheus as having adapted to the naturalistic old religion of Teer Fradee. The other third of the population had many different beliefs or no beliefs at all but the belief in their own survival. Among that number, there was a small, distrusted and persecuted cult that worshiped the New Gods of Teer Fradee. Cultists remained secretive and were said to receive messages through acorns washed ashore.

The Bridge Alliance was no more and had fractured into warring city-states once again. The science that had tied the Alliance together had all but been snuffed out. A small group of dedicated scholars hid in mountainside in-ground villages far from the rest of civilization. It was said by some that they held the last great hope of the island to escape at last from barbarism.

Another group of scientists descended from the Alliance had formed a new order: the Ordu Saadite. The amoral investigators sought refuge with the secretive Nautocracy and hadn’t been seen by any on the old continent in over one hundred years.

The mere existence of what had been the Coin Guard was even a distant and esoteric vein of study for the most specific hermit scholar. The Guard had evaporated centuries ago and nothing had arisen to take its place. Local warlords or authorities now employed their own forces loyal only to them.

The Congregation of Merchants had crumbled centuries ago and had been split between Thélème and the Alliance (both great powers blaming — perhaps correctly — the Congregation for spawning the New Gods that would overthrow the imperial system), though none of those old nations even existed any longer. Today, what had been Sérène of the Congregation was now the mud brick walled city-state of Cyowīn. The people of Cyowīn had built over the rubble of what had been the old city. It is said that one could dig into the caves and even find ancient buildings. Few braved the trip down at first, but some had found treasure there, and so it had become a past-time of fortune hunters to dig into the bedrock of the City of Coin (as Cyowīn was called) to be set for life. Sadly for most, the ground caved in and swallowed the seekers whole.

But one thing had changed in the last two generations: there had been the final case of the Malichor 50 years ago. Whether one believes it was a curse or a scientifically-bound sickness, the pandemic had run its course. At last, the population was growing once more. And growing. And growing! The people needed more!

The island of Teer Fradee itself was thought to only be a legend by many. But all knew the myth of it being a boundless cornucopia of plenty. Food, lumber, stone. Everything the people of the continent needed was there. Now they had but to entice the long-distant Nauts to rejoin them in reconquering the isle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And what of the Nauts? They had fled from the affairs of both Teer Fradee and of the old continent — for the most part. Many deep inland had only heard of them in whispered myth. Those who lived near the coast, however, had learned to hide when steam rose on the horizon.

Gale-force winds battered the Sea Tower as waves crashed into the rocks at the base of the Nautocrat capital. Even as the lightning of the storms churning above the Tower struck the tall metal rods coiled in copper, the incandescent lights of the dense and compact island metropolis surged with electric power.

Inside the Sea Tower, Imperator Vasco XVII pressed a button and his steel throne belched steam as pneumatic pumps lowered his great chair to the floor below. When the two ton throne finally stopped in a huff of mist, he stood from his seat of power to survey the Parliament of Captains assembled below his grand dais.

The electric lights illuminating the room sputtered and then flashed. One bulb broke with the crackling of lightning outside the Tower. A servant wearing a full-body green rubber suit with a facial apparatus covering every feature rushed to the remains of the bulb to vacuum up the remnants with a groaning machine and then replace the bulb with practiced precision.

"My Captains," the Imperator began. "Rejoice, for we have much to celebrate!"

The crowd of fifty seven Captains, seated behind paneled desks in a tiered semi-circle around the royal dais erupted in applause. It was indeed a great day. The last pocket of resistance among the Lonaukeen Isle had been quelled and full resource extraction could begin in earnest without fear of the (now former) terrorist Lonaukeen loyalists. It had always surprised the Imperator how desperately a native population would fight to protect their land, even in the face of the impossible odds of facing down the Mechs of the Nautocracy. It would be so much easier, Vasco XVII mused, for the technologically inferior natives to simply worship the Nautocracy as gods, lay down their weapons, surrender their resources and then kill themselves. For how was his far superior technology distinguishable from miraculous magic?

"I have some wondrous news, my valorous Captains!" the Imperator continued, his metal-encrusted arms raised. "The old continent is at last free of disease."

The captains jumped from their thick metal chairs in adoration.

"Our resident Ordu Saadite scientists have just completed several live dissections of captive Thélèmite savages of the old continent and have come to the firm conclusion that the dreaded Malichor has been effectively destroyed. And so, we can finally begin our forced recruitment program for the Mech Suit Mach 8! No longer will we put the superior children of the Nautocracy in danger on foreign shores. I have heard your complaints — and our losses were great in Lonaukeen. But NO MORE!"

In triumph, the Imperator concluded, "Now we shall set to work to outfit and train a new class of warrior captured from the old continent to set upon our Great Destiny: the recapture of Teer Fradee. The mud and stick magic of the old creatures there will not stop us, and even if thousands of Mech soldiers are killed, the mud witches will only be tying up our loose ends!"

The gathered elite laughed in victory.

"We shall burn every last log, mine every last vein, quarry every last stone, enslave every last native that we don't kill outright and pave over Teer Fradee!" The Imperator bellowed. "It shall become a flat, barren scar upon the sea that shall serve only to dock our great Undernaughts and Steamstreakers. And then, my Captains, then the planet will become _ours_!"

The Captains of the Nautaucracy celebrated into the night in the great Sea Tower, laughing, cavorting and dancing. Their Great Destiny awaited!


	3. The Fathers of Tir Fradi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God-Constantin and God-DeSardet, known by many names by the multitude of sentient creatures of Tir Fradi, were at last coming together after months apart. Their happy reunions always brought them such joy and filled the ever-growing island with life and energy.

The God-Constantin soared through the air circling over his favorite spot that he shared with his dearest God-DeSardet. He flew as a wood-encrusted dove up the great fiery mountain of Anemhaid. He perched on a rock above the molten furnace of creation, waiting for his beloved. The sun was still above the horizon and he wasn't to meet DeSardet until sunset. Constantin was alight with anticipation. It had been nearly a full year since last he caressed his love, since last he basked in his loving presence. It was their way. As he waited for his love to arrive, Constantin mused over the events of the last few centuries of Divine Life.

Around four centuries ago, the God-Constantin and the God-DeSardet had lived well over a human lifetime together mostly in the forms of young human men of 25. Having experienced the exuberance of youth to its full in their early days of Divinity, they had both decided to grow old together and then "die" in each others' arms just to feel the experience. Having settled most of the New Way (which now, years later, was simply "the Way"), having fully integrated the descendants of the imperials into the island communities, having completely restored Tír Fradi into balance with nature and having rebuffed countless attempts by the Nauts and would-be colonists from creating a foothold on the great isle, Constantin and DeSardet were free to live a simpler life together. They chose to age as normal, and over the years become wizened old men with long branch-woven beards.

They had a wood hutch with a garden that they shared in their dotage. While they no longer needed to eat, they would occasionally cook one another meals simply for the pleasure of the taste. A few of the Donegada came during those last years four centuries ago to seek advice, but when they did, the now-old-appearing Gods would whip up a delicious vegan meal and be far more forthcoming with their advice than their predecessor, the stupid dead old tree, could ever have been.

They spent their days creating new sentient creatures, breathing life into the land. They had created the Siadduhím, a sentient humanoid race made entirely of branches, leaves and vines and blessed with the gift of speech and song.

Together, they had gifted the Dosentats the burden of thought. This had been, at first, a bit of a mistake, as many of the creatures were driven to grief — unable to fathom their own mortality. It took a good century before the Gods were happy with the glowing and flying sprite-like creatures who named themselves Dosenkind.

In those years, now centuries ago, the Gods spent their nights laying with one another on a simple leaf and straw bed. As mortal nobles, the two had been raised on silk sheets, fine clothing and daily baths, but were never so happy as they were then when naked, entwined in the heather of the open fields of their island.

Constantin, still in the form of a wood-dove, ruffled his feathers upon his perch on the great volcano and wistfully remembered the night they "died" in each other's arms, nestled together in their simple wood hutch deep in the forests of Tír Fradi centuries ago. Old and wrinkled, they stared into each others' perfect God-Eyes one last time and then closed them and fell to sleep. While only semi-conscious, they could both feel their spirits departing their bodies. In astral form, translucent with hues of pink and purple, their spirits flew high above the island and looked below at their creation. DeSardet, now as beautiful as he had been as a swashbuckling youth of 25 yet glowing and pellucid, stroked Constantin's cheek.

"We have transcended form," DeSardet comforted his God-husband.

"We lived a whole life together," Constantin continued in awe. "And we still remain."

"Here is to eternity," DeSardet smiled.

The two disembodied spirits, suspended a mile above the isle, swirled together in celestial bliss for what could have been a decade, for time no longer mattered as much to the Spirits of Tír Fradi.

\----

The wood dove Constantin woke himself from his reverie as he spotted another wood dove flying toward the mountain with the setting orange sun glowing behind him. For the last two centuries, the God-Constantin and the God-DeSardet had decided to spend two glorious weeks together every year during the longest days of the year and to spend the rest of their time on separate sides of the island, seeing to the island's growth and expansion as well as imparting wisdom to the elders of the peoples under their charge.

While sometimes it was lonely, Constantin had come to see that this was a wondrous arrangement — for now every time the two Gods would meet, they would both have so much to talk about and things would never get stale between them. Mortals might not understand that, as they celebrate 50 year anniversaries as great milestones. But imagine as God-Constantin and God-DeSardet had celebrated their 500 year anniversary not many years ago. Their space apart gave them room to grow and the excitement of returning to one another. Besides, they could both sense if either were in danger and could simply appear on the other side of the island if circumstances warranted it.

God-Constantin imagined the form of his dashing 25-year-old self, the very man that had first stepped in wonder aboard the ship that would take his "cousin" and him to freedom from the dying Congregation. And with a thought, that is how he appeared.

The flying wood dove landed in front of now-young Constantin and appeared before him as the strapping youth who had saved his then-mortal cousin from bandits in Old Sérène.

"My love," God-Constantin moved to embrace his husband.

"Constantin . . ." God-DeSardet moved in for a deep kiss.

The fiery mountain shook with their love all night and the sky was ablaze with hues of orange and red.

The people on the island below knew this to mean that the Summer Festival had begun.


	4. Last night in Sacorní

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ainthonia and her handfast-mate Barnab spend the afternoon gathering rubble for their new home together. Life is filled with promise among the community of the Worshipers of Light living in the shadow of what was once the greatest city of Old Thélème.
> 
> But, there is smoke on the horizon . . .

"You are not going to stay out all day again, are you?" Brigit pleaded more than asked. "Your father is preparing such a nice meal for us all for this evening's prayers."

"Mother," Ainhonia smiled. "You know that Barnab and I have to start making a life for ourselves, just as you and father have!"

Mauritruis scoffed as he rotated the cooking rat-dog on the spit in the center of the family's stone hut.

"Don't worry mother, we will be back before prayers," Ainthonia chimed as she kissed Mauritruis on the cheek. "Good bye, father. The _arusaan_ looks delicious!"

Ainhonia combed her hands through her luscious long auburn hair and pulled her kerchief over the top of her head and then moved the thatch from the doorway to step outside of the family home.

"You know they want to start their own hold, Brig," Mauritruis chided his wife. "We were the same way when we were in our nineteenth cycle and newly handfasted."

"I know," Brigit blushed. "I just hoped we would have more time to live all together in our hold."

"Bah, this place is too small for the four of us: and certainly too small when there will be a fifth," Mauritruis smiled as he sat up to gently place his hands upon Brigit's swollen belly. "Besides! They are handfasted now. They will want a family of their own."

"I shall just miss her so," Brigit leaned into her handfast-mate.

"Nonsense, my plumb," Maurituis stood, swaying in a kind of slow dance behind his wife, his hands still lovingly cradling Brigit's pregnancy. "They are building their hold not an apple's throw from ours. You shall see our daughter and her handfast-mate every day."

Brigit turned to her love. "Are we too old for all of this again?"

"If the Illuminated have seen fit to make your belly full with life in your thirty ninth cycle, it must truly be a miracle. That is what the Priest of Light says."

"I know you are right, of course," Brigit calmed. "Let us say our afternoon prayers for safe passage of our daughter and Barnab and for the healthy life that we have made growing within me."

"Praise be to the Saints!" Maurituis began. "May the Light of the World shine upon our family from this day until the end of days."

\- - -

Ainhonia loved the way her man's dark skin glistened in the waning sun while he lifted ancient bricks into their cart. Barnab and Ainhonia had been pre-fasted since children, as they both came from respectable Illuminated families of the village of Sacorní and were seen to get along. Ainhonia had always thought of him as a friend, but since their handfasting three months ago, her feelings had changed, deepened.

He was no longer a silly boy with bigger dreams than her father, but he was now hers. He was _her_ man. Ainhonia was a good Follower of the Light and had never known the intimate touch of a man or woman before her handfasting. Barnab swore that he was the same in his abstention, but Ainhonia couldn't be sure: for what he could make her feel in their moments of intimacy were so transcendent that she could scarcely believe that he had no practice whatsoever before their handfast. Barnab swore, however, that Ainhonia was the only person he had ever been with and would ever love.

Finding time for intimacy was difficult, however, as they both lived under the roof of Ainhonia's parents Brigit and Maurituis.

And so, they were building a hold together to build their own family. Already the foundation had been laid and the walls were beginning to take shape. Barnab respected Ainhonia's request that they build their hold close to her family's, for he appreciated the way he had been welcomed into their home.

Ainhonia and Barnab spent the rest of the afternoon loading old bricks from the ancient city of Thélème onto their cart to travel back to Sacorní. Looters and brigands had picked the old city dry centuries ago, but there were still bricks to be found to help build holds. All of the stone huts of Sacorní were built from the bricks of a largely-forgotten crumbling civilization but a mile down the road.

Hours had passed and the orange-red sun began to set. Ainhonia knelt to the ground in supplication.

"Join me, Barnab," she entreated while holding out her hand towards him and closing her eyes.

Barnab knelt next to his mate, held her hand and closed his eyes.

They both intoned in tandem, "May the Light of the Illuminated forever guide our path. We shall stand in the Light and be purified by its guidance. May the Holy Sun shine upon us and grant us its blessing. May the purity of fire burn in our hearts for all eternity. Eternity is within. Eternity is within. Eternity is within."

They both remained kneeling, eyes shut, their faces basking in the light of the setting sun.

But then they both noticed something strange. From behind their closed eyes, the sun seemed to set suddenly. They both interrupted their meditations to open their eyes to look out to see. The sun hadn't set. Rather a thick column of smoke billowed from the water, blotting out their view of the setting orb of Divine Fire.

"What is this?" Barnab asked with some alarm.

"I don't know," Ainhonia answered. "But we should get back to Sacorní. Come, gather our things. We should return."

The young couple hurried down the dusty road to their village. By the time they arrived with their stone-filled cart, the sun had set and it was time for evening prayers. Barnab left the cart outside of Brigit and Mauritruis' hold and then moved the thatch back to cover the doorway. Barnab and Ainhonia joined their elders and had forgotten about the strange smoke on the horizon by the time the Night Centering Prayer Litany was done and they began to feast on roasted _arusaan_ wrapped in crisp _kaisa_ leaves.

The evening passed in laughter and storytelling. Mauritruis could be an excellent storyteller when he wanted to be. He recounted the tales of the Time Before when great holds could stand at the height of twenty people. But then he reminded all of the wickedness of the people and how the Light cast them down in a Time of Penance, in which they all still live. It sent shivers down Ainhonia's spine every time he told this story.

The couples set about extinguishing the cookfire and tallow candles and preparing their sleep spaces.

Mauritruis wrapped his arms about his pregnant mate's body and nestled in for a night's rest.

Across the circular hut and separated only by a thin thatch wall from her parents, Ainhonia nuzzled into her mate's chest and began her dreams with what their new hold would look like with little children running about.

Ainhonia's dreams were lucid and lovely: at least to begin with. In her dreams, Mauritrius chased after his toddler son, Ainhonia held a baby daughter in her arms as the village Priest named her a Holy Mother, Barnab shone proudly looking up to his handfast-mate while holding a toddler child of their own. Finally, Ainhonia's mother Brigit smiled down upon her from a crafted wooden chair.

"I love you, my daughter," Brigit beamed in Ainhonia's dream. "I am so proud of you!"

Brigit sat in her chair in Ainhonia's dream and kindly smiled at her daughter. She smiled until she started screaming in terror.

The children running about the hold melted into blood that seeped into the cracks of the bricks of the foundation as Brigit continued to scream.

It was then that Ainhonia realized that she was dreaming and that Brigit was screaming in the waking world. Ainhonia and Barnab jumped upright, wiping their sleep-filled eyes in horror as they saw the hold ripped apart by creatures the likes of which they had never seen before. Four giant metal beasts in the shape of men tore through their hold as though it were made of leaves and not stone. The monsters had two fingers on each . . . hand? Yet these "fingers" moved differently than any creature any of the villagers had ever seen. This was no dream: it was a nightmare.

But Ainhonia knew she was no longer sleeping.

Mauritruis grabbed his axe and charged at one of the monstrosities. He let out a wail as the creature grabbed his throat between its two fingers which quickly constricted to immobilize him.

Barnab was shaking in terror but still knew to protect his mate. He glanced down at his stone axe, but Ainhonia shot him a quick look as to say, "NO!"

Strange directional lights shone from the metal creatures all over the wrecked hold. Brigit trembled in fear, but was immobilized by shock. She clasped at her womb as liquid began to fall to the ground. Ainhonia knew her mother's time was not to come for another moon cycle, but perhaps the sheer panic had driven her mother to an early pregnancy.

"Halt," a curt woman's voice, as though spoken through reeds, ordered from behind the metal men.

A slight figure in a full-body suit made of a blue glistening material the likes of which the villagers had never seen stepped forward. The person roughly had the outline of a woman, though was covered head-to-toe in this foreign attire. She spoke from behind some sort of black metal mask with a strange tube that extended from where her mouth should be to two great metal cylinders strapped to her back.

Her voice muffled from behind the horrid mask yet amplified in some strange way, the woman continued, "Report, soldier."

"Ma'am, this one tried to cut me with an axe," the metal creature said — again his voice amplified in a way that the villagers couldn't understand how it was making such a sound.

"Fiesty?" The woman covered in the strange outfit seemed to look Mauritruis up and down, though her eyes could not be seen from behind a reflective surface that covered that area of what would be a face.

"But too old," the woman concluded. "Terminate it."

The metal beast's "fingers" clamped down with a swift movement, immediately severing Mauritruis' head. The head rolled to Brigit's feet. She fainted in despair and fear.

Ainhonia screamed in hatred, fear, despair, resignation and defiance. It was a mix of emotions that she had never felt before.

"That one," the strange woman pointed to the slumped figure of Brigit. "It is giving birth. The child might be of some use to us. Move it to the ship and I will perform an extraction. After that, we can dispose of the savage host."

A metal man lifted Brigit's prone body into the air with its metal clamps and moved with incredible power behind the gathered creatures.

"This one is young enough and in perfect condition," the sadistic blue-clad woman figure pointed to Barnab. "Take him for the Mech Program. And grab that one too . . ." She pointed to Ainhonia. "She is of the perfect age for certain . . . experiments . . . I would like to try."

"No! NO!!! Ainhonia struggled, but then something struck her from behind.

And then, darkness . . .


	5. Chapter 5: The world as revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the isle, many live comfortably with nature and a few are gifted with the Sight-Beyond-Sight. Sha'a is one such person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sha'a is a new character. They happen to be non-binary, hence the tenses I use in the prose below. Being non-binary is not really a big deal in Tír Fradee in this day and time.

The night echoed with the Love of the Gods and Sha'a was forced to wake. In their hutch near Tír Hasaa, Sha'a awoke with a start. "The festivals must have begun!," Sha'a mused. The yearly mating of the Gods meant great joy for all of the creatures of Tír Fradee. The harvests would be plentiful, the games would be wondrous, and the joy of the people would be abundant. The Dosenkind would fly about the air with trails of blue light. All of the Gods' creation would celebrate in wonder. Sha'a was as pleased as any of their neighbors or friends.

Sha'a pulled the sleep from their eyes and went to their reflecting pool. They splashed some water on their face and combed their hair. Sha'a thought to themself that they were having a particularly good hair day as they parted their purple bangs in just sort of a way that Sha'a felt was fashionable. Yes. Sha'a was particularly attractive, and they knew that! But still, being a humble sort, Sha'a would never admit that publicly.

The night had been filled with the lightning and thunder of the annual Summer Festival. Just as all of the adherents to The Way, Sha'a smiled knowing that the two Gods had met in Divine Union yet again this year and would spread their joy to all the creatures of Tír Fradee.

Sha'a pulled their outfit over their head and buttoned it up. Objectively speaking, fashion was a bit conservative these days, but Sha'a always saw themselves on the edge of the envelope, pushing for more. So, it should come not as a surprise that Sha'a had a chrome-lined jumper with red highlights that they sported. It was time to celebrate the Gods!

Sha'a took their moment of reflection to think upon how much they revered the Gods. God-Constantin and God-DeSaredet had given so much for Sha'a's familty. God-Consantin had given of himself that even Sha'a's grandfather lived! God-DeSardet had granted the fields with his great abundance that they might yield fruit. All of Sha'a's joy came from the will of the gods and Sha'a was truly thankful.


End file.
